


The Abyss is Only as Dark as Your Soul: A Tragedy in a Two Nights

by lamentomori



Series: Everything Tends Towards Entropy [6]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Angst, Bushi is a good friend and surrogate mother hen, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 22:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13797825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: The Abyss is deep, dark, and Marty has chosen to fall. Hiromu is the only tiny sliver of a ledge Marty can cling to in his descent.





	The Abyss is Only as Dark as Your Soul: A Tragedy in a Two Nights

Night One: The Abyss Only Stares

The song that hits is one Marty is only tangentially familiar with. The entrance music of _The Golden Lovers_. The fans are ecstatic. They chant and cheer, and hold their hands out for high fives. They fill every inch of the Hall with adulation. Marty wants to hide from it. He’s either jealous, or conflicted. He’s not sure which, but he is one.

The ring seems enormous. It’s not any bigger than a normal ring, but tonight it feels huge. The crowd are still chanting _Golden Lovers_ , and Kenny is smiling, smiling like Marty’s only seen in pictures. Love is a beautiful thing. He hates them both. He hates this situation. He hates that Cody is on the other side of his ring post. He hates that he’s here. He hates the bookers for making him be there. He hates that he didn’t have the balls to tell them to fuck off. He hates Kota Ibushi.

He hates Ibushi’s concern. He looks _so_ concerned. He’s staring at Marty _begging_ him to make the right decision, begging him to not do this to Kenny. He isn’t doing anything to Omega. Cody is doing this. Omega is doing this. Marty is hoping that he can avoid most of everything, but he has the feeling that tonight is going to play out badly. Ibushi’s staring at him, when he’s not staring at Omega, and he stares at Omega a lot. He _loves_ Omega. He so blatantly loves Omega, and Omega loves him back. It burns. Marty has considerable pride, and it’s ablaze. He wants to grab Ibushi by the throat, and scream _why did he fuck me?_ He wants Ibushi to explain Omega’s actions, because Marty is entirely certain that Ibushi could explain them better than Omega ever could. Omega is awful at explaining himself, it would be impossible for Ibushi to do a worse job than the man himself.

The moment he knows nothing is getting salvaged tonight is the very moment he and Omega start fighting. He tries to keep his mind focussed, to keep telling himself that this is just a match. He’s looking for the pin. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a match. The abyss isn’t beneath his feet, and the thread holding him up isn’t unravelling. This will be okay, he can still salvage this somehow.

“What are you doing, Marty?” Kenny asks the question as though he has a right, as though he knows what Marty should be doing. Marty doesn’t answer. He can’t. He doesn’t know. He spends the match on autopilot. There’s no point in thinking too much about what’s going on, no point in thinking at all. What’s going to happen is going to happen. He’ll either be led by his heart, or his head, or his gut. One of the three will win the battle inside him eventually. After the match, the fight still rages.

He doesn’t stop anywhere after the post-match interview. He does what he needs to do, grabs his stuff, and goes. He’s no idea if Hiromu is still in the building, or if he’d already left, but Marty needs away. His phone has one message, the word _car_ from Hiromu. Apparently he’d not wanted to stick around either. He can’t blame him. After being pinned by Flip, Marty wouldn’t want to stick around either. Not that it’s embarrassing, it’s just that, Hiromu is better than that. The thought makes him think back to Hiromu telling him that Naito would notice him when he was nothing. He’s been losing a lot lately. Marty’s throat feels dry, and he’s glad when he spots Hiromu’s car, complete with the man himself, in the carpark.

“I need a shower.” Marty gets in Hiromu’s car, and offers him a vague smile.  Hiromu nods, and starts the engine. His lips are pressed tightly together, his eyes red like he’d been crying, or rubbing them too hard. “You okay?” Hiromu nods instead of answering. “Pull over.” Hiromu glances over at him. “Pull over for a minute.” He does as Marty asks. Marty slides a hand into Hiromu’s hair, turns his head, and kisses him. Hiromu moans quietly into the kiss, hands making a mess of Marty’s hair.

“I needed that.” He gives Marty a soft smile, and taps him on the nose before starting the car once more. “I’m sorry...about tonight.” There’s an emptiness in Hiromu, a strange hollowness that leaves Marty wanting to fill him up with something.

“Yeah...I can’t.” Marty thumps his head off the rest, and scowls up at the roof of the car. “I can’t, you know?” Hiromu nods.

“I won’t ask.” His lips press together, like he’s forcibly keeping himself from talking. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“I don’t know.” Marty laughs bleakly. Talking about any of it feels pointless. He could form an entire plan of action for the next twenty years, but one look at Omega would scupper the whole thing. Omega has a hold over him in some awful, awkward way. A way he can’t fully understand. Hiromu glances over at him, but doesn’t say anything.

It’s strange that Hiromu is taking him home. He’d said, in a very vague way that Naito wasn’t happy with him taking Marty home, but he recognises the building. Hiromu seems oddly detached, his actions slowly deliberate. The urge to shake him, or pull him into a dark corner and fuck him is at once strong and easy to ignore. There’s no frantic making out in the hallway, there’s no scaring the neighbours, all they do is walk quietly to Hiromu’s bleak apartment that’s the colour of old paper.

Inside, Marty pulls Hiromu to him, strokes his hair from his eyes, and kisses the tip of his nose. Hiromu laughs at that, a silly, pleased smile on his face. Marty pecks his nose again, getting another laugh.

“So, you wanna shower with me?” Hiromu’s still smiling when Marty asks. It’s the best smile he’s ever seen on Hiromu’s face. Gentle, sweet, and soft. A smile that it would be no chore to wake up to every morning.

“I guess.” Marty leans in for another kiss, but this time Hiromu presses one to the tip of his nose first. He takes Marty’s bag from him, and heads for the bedroom. “You remember where the shower is, right?” Marty remembers just fine. He kicks his shoes off, dumps his coat on the back of a chair, and heads for the bathroom. On the way, he pauses at the open bedroom door. Hiromu is staring at his phone, a troubled look on his face.

“Everything okay?” He leans against the doorframe, and watches Hiromu jump at his question. “That Naito?” Hiromu shakes his head. “Ah...he’s said nothing, and that’s worse, huh?”

“I don’t want to talk about Naito.” Hiromu tosses his phone down onto the bed, and strides over to Marty, his arms wrapping about him. “I want nothing but us. No Naito, no Omega, no Ibushi, no...what’s his name? The creepy one with the ugly green suit…”

“Cody? Yeah, definitely no Cody.” Marty nips along Hiromu’s jaw. Hiromu’s head tilts back a little, and Marty briefly considers leaving a mark on his exposed throat. It’s please him for Hiromu to wear his mark, but it’d be too awkward.

“Shower. You stink.” Hiromu moans softly, his fingers flexing on Marty’s shoulders. He pushes Marty away with a smile on his lips. He bats Marty on the nose, then catches Marty’s hands, leading him to the bathroom.

Marty starts the shower, feeling oddly relaxed. Outside of this apartment _everything_ is falling apart, but in here all there is him and Hiromu. When they’re together, everything else falls away, all that matters is them. Marty pulls his clothes off, and leans against the shower wall, watching Hiromu strip, and drape a couple of towels over the radiator on the wall. It’s strange how content he feels after that match. He doesn’t want to think about that one too much. He doesn’t want to think about where he stands with Bullet Club, or with Omega, or with Cody. He’s not looking forward to tomorrow’s match.

“Hey, look at me.” Hiromu’s hand on his cheek, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Marty pulls him into a kiss, slow and thorough. It’s hard to remember the time a few weeks ago when he could kiss Hiromu without wanting to, with someone else on his mind. He’s almost certain he could kiss Omega, and the thought of Hiromu’s hair at least would come to him.

“You’ve the prettiest hair.” The words leave Marty before he’s really aware his mouth is open. Hiromu laughs at him, and shifts so the spray hits his hair. “You better not bet it against Desperado...if you lose your hair, I’ll kill him.” Hiromu laughs at him. “Im serious, Hiromu.” Marty takes a firm grasp of his hair, and pulls him into a firm kiss.

“I’m gonna shave it off myself.” Hiromu is wearing an expression that sets a fire in the pit of Marty’s stomach. He looks like he needs to be fucked hard.

“Don’t you dare.” Marty leans in for a kiss, but Hiromu avoids it.

“I’ll shave it all pretty like Suzuki.” He smirks at Marty, and yanks his head back, a few strands of his hair remains in Marty’s fingers. Marty rolls his eyes, and rinses the hair from his fingers. “I will try to not lose though.” He leans in close to Marty, and pecks him on his cheek. Marty nods, and washes his hair quickly.

“Turn around.” He tells Hiromu. He obeys without any question, an odd little shiver runs through him when Mary starts washing his hair. It’s almost depressing how gentle actions always make Hiromu melt. He’ll take rough treatment in his step, but the moment Marty handles him softly, he seems almost nervous. Naito deserves a punch in the face for the mess he’s made of Hiromu. “If you save this beautiful mane, I’ll wash it every night I can. I’ll even learn how to give those nice scalp massages you get in fancy salons.”

“I’ll try my best...again.” Hiromu’s soft, and pliant, his voice barely audible.

“I might learn how to give those massages anyway...I’m sure I heard that makes hair grow faster.” Marty rinses the conditioner from Hiromu’s hair, and kisses along his shoulders. It’s easy to shove everything to the back of his mind, and focus solely on Hiromu. He turns Hiromu around in his arms. Hiromu drapes his arms over Marty’s shoulders, and smirks at him. “So…” Marty trails off, his hand on Hiromu’s ass, he squeezes lightly. Hiromu bumps his head against Marty’s, and Hiromu starts nipping kisses along Marty’s jaw.

“You wanna fuck me?” Hiromu murmurs in his ear. Marty groans in response to that.

“Yeah. You up for it?” Marty slides a finger between Hiromu’s asscheeks, not touching his hole, but teasing it. Hiromu nods, pressing back against Marty’s hand. “Lube?” Hiromu makes a vague noise, and pulls away. He holds up one finger, and leaves the shower. He’s gone for a moment, and comes back with a little bottle. He presses it into Marty’s hand, and leans forward, his forehead against Marty’s shoulder. One of his hands is behind him, stretching himself open. Marty slicks his cock, and considers the best way to proceed. He supposes taking Hiromu from behind would be the best, but it’s not what he wants. Hiromu slips past him, and braces himself against the wall, taking the decision from him.

“C’mon.” Hiromu looks at him over his shoulder. Marty slides a finger into him, making sure Hiromu’s done a good job preparing himself. Satisfied, Marty eases inside him. “You don’t need to be so careful, Birdie.”

“I’ll be as careful as I like, Hiromu.” Marty laps at his neck, and presses Hiromu’s chest to the tiles as he buries his cock in him slowly. “I wanna see you come apart, Hiromu.” He nips at his ear, and smothers a smile against Hiromu’s neck at the shiver that runs throughout him. He keeps his strokes slow, and deep. He places almost slobbering kisses against Hiromu’s neck, moving his head solely when the water falling on his head fills his ear. Hiromu hips rock back against Marty’s trying to urge him to hurry up. He whines, and groans, his nails scrapes against the tiles, one of his feet wraps around Marty’s ankle.

“ _Fuck_ me.” There’s a whimper in his tone, something desperate. Marty pulls out of him, and turns him around.

“You sure? You want me to fuck you?” Marty palms his cock, stroking it a few times, then he fingers Hiromu’s hole, rubbing over his prostate firmly. Hiromu takes a firm hold of Marty’s cock, squeezing, and stroking him.

“Fuck me.” A filthy smile blossoms over his lips, his eyes smouldering and dark. “I’ve always thought you looked like a lazy top. Prove me wrong.” Marty laughs, and buries his cock inside him in one stroke. One of Hiromu’s legs wraps around Marty, pulling him closer, and deeper. Hiromu’s words were a tease, but he’s going to prove him wrong. He’s going to take Hiromu’s ability to think, and throw it out the window. Marty knows he’s leaving bruises on Hiromu’s hips, he can almost feel them forming under his fingers. Hiromu’s one leg around him is pulling him closer, his nails are biting into Marty’s shoulders. His cock is hard between them, Marty can feel it. He wants to help Hiromu get off, but he’s not entirely sure that they’d not end up on the floor if he let Hiromu go even a little.

“Hiromu?” Marty pants in his ear, and Hiromu whines rather than answer properly. His body tightens around Marty’s cock. His head falls back against the tiled wall, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted, and slightly swollen. He looks lost, beautifully lost. Marty kisses him, proud of his the effect of his efforts.

“Marty.” Hiromu’s hands shift, and cup Marty’s face. He strokes his thumbs over Marty’s eyebrows. “Pretty Birdie. Fuck me good. Make me cum.” His head falls back with a soft pant. Marty spares a hand for Hiromu’s cock, jerking it as much in time with his hips as he can. Marty presses Hiromu against the wall more firmly, lapping at his throat, wanting nothing more than to feel Hiromu’s orgasm tearing through him. He cums with a quiet whisper of Marty’s name. It makes him feel oddly proud. His own orgasm comes shortly after. It’s a little embarrassing how long it takes him to get his breath back. When he pulls out, Hiromu whines, and ducks his head under the shower spray.

“I do okay?” Hiromu nods in response to Marty’s question, and smothers a yawn with his hand.

“Bed.” He yawns again, kisses Marty, and grabs the shower head down to rinse Marty’s cum from him. “You did very good.” Hiromu kisses the side of Marty’s mouth, and gets out of the shower.

In bed, there’s a silence between them. There’s something off, Hiromu’s staring at the ceiling. The distant look from earlier back in his eyes. Marty reaches over, and smooths his hair back from his forehead.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, unsurprised by the shake of Hiromu’s head in response. “Yeah, I didn’t think you would to be honest.” A smile forms tentatively on Hiromu’s lips.

“I’m very easy to read, huh?” He sounds as distant as he looks. “I wish you were too. I wish I knew what you were thinking...I want to help you make a good choice, but…” He trails off with a laugh.

“I want to make a good choice too, you know.” Marty shifts to lie on his side, his head propped up in his hand. “What’s wrong? I know it’s not just me. It’s more than that...it’s...ever since you lost to Will.” Hiromu’s eyes screw shut, and Marty smooths a finger over one of his drawn eyebrows. “Did he hurt you?” He hopes that Hiromu knows he’s asking about Naito and not Will. He knows Will hurt him, he watched the match. He can guess that what happened between Hiromu and Naito hurt more. Hiromu hasn’t talked about it all, avoiding the subject bluntly.

“He...stirred up some old memories is all.” Hiromu forces a smile to his lips, and Marty’s stung by the falseness of it. He’s never been so certain of a lie from Hiromu before.

He rolls off the bed, and goes to the bathroom. As he washes his hands, his reflection stares at him. It’s blank. He didn’t think he was capable of looking quite so blank. It’s an expression Hiromu would be envious of given his proclivity for empty gazes. A very timid knock on the door jars him from the void he’d fallen into.

“What?” He hadn’t meant to call it out so harsh or loudly. He shakes his head, and gives his reflection a scowl. “Hiromu?” He pulls the door open a little, peeking out, hoping Hiromu’s not left his apartment. He’s told Marty how he enjoys walking his problems out. He‘s still there though, sat on the bed, his back to the door. “Hiromu?” Marty clambers onto the bed, and wraps himself around Hiromu. Marty isn’t usually at a loss for words, but his mind is drawing a blank.

“I’m sorry.” Hiromu murmurs. His hands flex on his thighs. Marty squeezes him tightly. “He hurts me so much, but it’s not...he doesn’t know he does it.” There’s nothing to those words, no emotion, no volume, no substance. They sound like the very last of Hiromu’s soul escaping. “I love him, I loved…” He sighs, and shakes his head. “But he...he hurts me _so_ much, and then you. You don’t hurt me, Marty.” Marty presses a kiss to the side of Hiromu’s head, hoping he never will, but knowing that he very easily could. “C’mon. Sleep. Tomorrow will be…” Hiromu trails off. Marty kisses his shoulder, and flops to his back, pulling Hiromu down to him.

“Yeah...the one thing we can say for tomorrow is that it’ll be.”

 

Night Two: The Demons Whisper

He’s shaking. He can feel himself shaking. He’s been shaking ever since Cody pulled him from the ring. He can’t seem to stop himself from quivering like a leaf in the wind. He can hear the crowd chanting. He can hear Cody talking. He can hear, but he can’t really understand. He can see, but nothing really registers. The Bucks walk past with scowls on their faces. Cody finally takes his arm off of Marty, and follows them. He uses his new found freedom to hurry away from all of this.

“Marty.” Hiromu’s voice from down a corridor to his left. Marty’s _never_ been happier to see him. He almost runs to him. Hiromu wraps his arms around Marty’s aching, sweaty body, holding him tightly. Marty finally stops shaking. With Hiromu’s scent filling his nose, his body filling his arms, it’s easy to forget what just happened. He sided with Cody. He hadn’t really meant to, but he did. He’d fought Kenny, again, only this time there wasn’t the hesitation. Kenny didn’t show any, and Marty didn’t show any, and he made choices. More than likely terrible choices. “Shh…” Hiromu shushes him quietly, his lips brushes his temple. “You okay to put some clothes on? I don’t think it’s a good idea to hang around.” Hiromu steps back a little, and nods at the bag at his feet, on top of it are some very loose looking sweatpants, and a t-shirt that is definitely not Marty’s. It might be Hiromu’s, he does tend to wear clothes that are on the too big side. He pulls the clothes on quickly, and picks his bag up.

“You got your friend?” Another voice. A voice Marty doesn’t recognise, and a man he doesn’t recognise owns it. A Japanese guy with bleached hair, quick eyes, and a strong jaw.

“Yeah. C’mon.” Hiromu tugs on Marty’s hand, following along behind the man Marty doesn’t know.

“That’s your friend?” The man sounds bemused, and Hiromu’s hand tightens around Marty’s. “Does Naito know you’re friends with a member of Bullet Club?”

“Naito knows. You staying for dinner, Bushi?” Hiromu shoots Marty a look, making sure that Marty knows the faith that’s being put in him. Bushi without his mask isn’t something just anyone gets to see. He understands the trust from Bushi, but is more concerned about the blase way Hiromu dealt with the Naito question. Naito knows, but he’s far from happy about it. Until relatively recently Hiromu wore a mark that showed how unhappy about the situation he was, not so long ago, Marty had listened to Hiromu have one of those monologues where his phone screen shows a ceiling, and Hiromu rambles in a horribly empty voice about how much Naito knows about their _friendship_. It was a phone call Marty would rather forget.

“You cooking?” Bushi’s leading the way, not looking back, keeping the pace quick. Marty’s clinging to Hiromu, leaning on him far more than he should be as they hobble down the corridor, and out of the building. His body, his head in particular, is throbbing in agony. The _golden trigger_ is a painful, powerful thing. The whole match hurt, but that finisher is genuinely a _finisher_.

“Hiromu?” Marty lightly tugs his hair to get his attention. Hiromu turns to him from Bushi mid-sentence about his making dinner. “Do you have painkillers?” He nods, and helps Marty into the back of his little car. “Do you have painkillers in the car?”

“Why?” Hiromu is looking at him oddly, and Bushi is getting into the driver’s seat.

“I’d guess it’s because Omega and Ibushi kneed his head in, little Hiro.” Bushi mutters, starting the car’s engine, and turning on the heat.

“Let me look. I think there’s some in here.” Hiromu starts rooting through the glove box. Bushi is staring at him. Marty can feel him staring at him. He should say something, but he has no idea what he should say. The look on Bushi’s face reflected in the rear view mirror suggests he feels the same way. “Tada!” A foil blister packet is brandished in Hiromu’s hand. “Water...shit...can you take them dry?” Marty must look horrified, because Bushi makes a very frustrated noise.

“Here.” Bushi pulls a bottle of water from the driver’s door pocket, and offers it back to Marty. “Get in, so we can leave, Hiro.” Hiromu mumbles something to himself, and comes back to sit with Marty. “Seatbelts.” Without thinking, Marty secures his seatbelt, and takes the pills from Hiromu. “No more than two of those pills.” Bushi orders, and pulls out of the carpark.

“I never would have pegged him as a mother hen.” Marty nudges Hiromu with a smile, and swallows the painkillers with a mouthful of water from Bushi’s bottle.

“Bushi is mother.” Hiromu grins at him, and pulls Marty to rest against his shoulder. His fingers start combing through Marty’s sweaty, tangled hair, smoothing the knots out.

“Sanada is father...we’ll have a spring wedding” Bushi laughs loudly. He drives differently to Hiromu, taking corners more cautiously, treating the speed limit as a law and not a suggestion. Hiromu drives like he wrestles, with utter abandon and disregard. “Evil is big brother...Hiro is our little baby boy.” Bushi glances in the mirror, a jaunty grin on his lips. Marty almost wants to ask what Naito is in this family set up, but he’s slightly afraid to, Naito is the keystone of LIJ. He’s probably the family god.

“I’m not a baby.” Hiromu sounds falsely affronted. Marty can hear a laugh rumbling in Hiromu’s chest. “What do you want for dinner?” He changes the subject easily, and Marty falls into a light doze, letting them decide what they’ll be eating without his input.

Once they get to Hiromu’s apartment, Marty’s sent to the shower. It seems Bushi is staying at least until dinner is over, which is actually a good thing. If it was just Marty and Hiromu, he’s sure he’d either be in tears, or doing something he’d regret. He doesn’t want to be alone with Hiromu when he’s in this mood. He wants to brood. Hiromu would make this better somehow, with his gentle touches and tender words. Hiromu’s shower has good pressure, the water on his back feels like daggers in his skin. His mind summons up the match. His words to Omega, his prevailing silence. Ibushi’s concerned face, the _fuck you_ he’d thrown at it repeatedly. Quite without his consent, he’s made his decision. Things are as fallen apart as they’re going to get. Probably. He doesn’t want to curse this. Every second that passes is merely an opportunity for something else to break, for him to fall a little further. He doesn’t want to be in the same column of the abyss as Cody, but he thinks his thread has snapped, and he’s tumbling down. His inaction, his frantic trying to keep things together, his reliance on Omega being able to talk sense into Cody has sent him on this plummet.

“Fuck.” His fist connects with the wall he’d fucked Hiromu against last night. It’s a much better memory, but one he shouldn’t indulge in. He needs to think about his future. Tomorrow. He’ll think tomorrow. Tonight, he’ll have dinner with Hiromu, and his friend. Then tomorrow, once he’s on his flight home, he’ll think long and hard about what’s going to happen. Maybe he’ll get lucky, maybe The Bucks will be on the flight, and they’ll be able to work out something. Omega has rebound himself to Ibushi. The OG Bullet Club are tightening ranks. Page is on a limb. Cody is mad. And Marty is falling along with everything else. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, he’s finishing this shower, then he'll pull on the clothes Hiromu left for him on the toilet, eat, and finally sleep.

Dinner turns out to some beef noodles, and Marty’s genuinely sad that he didn’t get to see Hiromu make them. He’s never seen Hiromu cook, and he’d like to. Bushi washes the dishes, leaving Marty and Hiromu on the couch. Hiromu’s fingers are running through his hair in a slow, easy rhythm. Bushi returns to the living room, with a pot of tea. He takes a seat on an armchair, and flicks on the TV, his attention far from them. Marty’s almost horrified at how comfortable he feels. His stomach is full, his body is heavy, and his mind is gloriously blank. The TV show is going over his head, and it feels like Hiromu’s fingers might lull him to sleep. Hiromu’s chest is raising and falling slowly, like he’s actually fallen asleep himself. Marty’s oddly pleased that he knows what it feels like when Hiromu’s fallen asleep.

“This is a very _strange_ situation.” Bushi speaks quietly, like he thinks one of the two of them is asleep. Marty’s fairly sure he won’t be talking to him, so he stays silent, letting Hiromu respond. “Has Naito said anything about it?”

“Of course, don’t fuck him at home, that’s all.” Hiromu’s voice is as soft as clouds, as warm as hot chocolate, as gentle as a breeze.

“So…you’re having a sleepover?” Bushi sounds amused. Hiromu laughs in that same voice. Marty would live content if that voice was the only sound he ever heard ever again. Hiromu’s cloud soft voice is infinitely preferable to the screeches that he knows are going to be coming at him from Cody, or the soul shaking furious growls of Omega, or the infuriating concerned tones of Ibushi.

“We are. A lovely sleepover with two of my best friends.” Hiromu laughs again. Marty glances up at him. His eyes are on the TV, his fingers moving sporadically through Marty’s hair.

“Hiro...you know how Naito is when it comes to you...just...you’re a pain in the ass, little brother.” Bushi’s looking over at them, an earnest look on his face. Beneath his head, Hiromu laughs with his beautiful cloud voice again, and Marty closes his eyes.

Marty definitely had fallen asleep. Bushi and Hiromu are talking in low, fast Japanese, that sounds beautiful; unfamiliar syllables melding into sounds that mean nothing to Marty, but are undeniably charming sounding. He doesn’t know what they’re talking about, and honestly he doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want to be moved. Hiromu is soft enough to be comfortable, and he smells familiar enough to be comforting. His fingers are running over Marty’s face gently, mapping his features carefully. He’s not looking at Marty, he’s staring at the TV, talking to Bushi, like this is something that happens every day. Another ten minutes pass, and Bushi yawns. Hiromu gently shakes Marty, clearly unaware that he was already awake.

“Bed?” Marty shifts, and smiles up at Hiromu. He gets up off the couch, and offers his hand to Hiromu. Hiromu lets him haul him to his feet. He takes off, probably to get some bedding for Bushi, leaving Marty alone with him.

“Naito is _protective_ of him.” Bushi says softly, his hand resting on Marty’s shoulder. “For all he hurts him, he wants nothing more than his happiness.” It’s either a threat, a warning, or a quantifier. “You seem like a nice, if stupid boy...little Hiro is too, be careful with him.” Bushi ruffles his hair, and flops dramatically to the couch. Hiromu drops a bunch of blankets on top of Bushi. “Goodnight children.”

“Bushi try to scare you?” Hiromu nudges against him. Marty nods vaguely, and stops at the bedroom door.

“He tried.” Marty yawns. “He isn’t nothing on Bullet Club though.” Hiromu pecks a kiss to Marty nose, and jerks his head towards bathroom.

“Hmm...he said he’s making breakfast, by the way.” Hiromu smothers his yawn against Marty’s shoulder, and heads to the bathroom. Marty gets into bed. This is the third time he’s slept in this bed, but he’s still going to miss it tomorrow, or more accurately he’s going to miss sleeping beside Hiromu. He comes into the bedroom, ruffling his hair up, the red ends sticking up randomly. Marty scoots over to the other side of the bed, opening his arms to Hiromu. He’s wearing a stupid smile, he knows he is, but he can’t bring himself to care. Hiromu looks sleepy, and soft, like he needs to be cuddled up in Marty’s arms. It’s good to be needed for a change.

“C’mere.” Marty flaps his hands at him, and gets a soft laugh from Hiromu. “Don’t laugh at me.” Marty mutters into Hiromu’s hair as he settles against him. “I’m falling apart.”

“I know, Marty.” Hiromu pulls back enough to look at Marty. “You and me both, but we’re together.” There’s a smile on Hiromu’s lips, the smile from yesterday, the smile Marty would be happy to wake up to every morning, and tomorrow he will. Tomorrow he’ll start his day well, and hopefully on the flight back, he’ll work out how to make the days that come after be as good.

 


End file.
